Very Sincerely Yours
by tony-starks-nipples
Summary: Awkward confession of love. One-shot. Guy Ritchieverse.


"Have I ever told you how truly stunning your mustache is?"

Watson looked up from his book. The other man was looking off at some distant point, as if nothing had been said. "What are you getting at Holmes?"

"So… manly," he continued. He did not look back at Watson; his eyes still traveled around the room. He ignored the doctor's question. "And that wobble of yours is very…"

"Holmes—"

"Stoic."

"Holmes."

"John?"

"_Holmes_."

"Don't you care for me enough to call me by my given name?" On _name_, he finally turned to look at Watson.

The doctor shook his head and reopened his book. He muttered something to himself about how he didn't have to put up with this. He stared at the same sentence for quite some time, all the while very aware that Sherlock Holmes was staring at him.

"You perplex me, Watson."

"You have never called me John before, and now you are perplexed?" Watson glared at Holmes and saw not even a flash of emotion. Holmes, as always, was unreadable. "Who are you and what have you done with my darling?" Sherlock's eyebrows rose to his hairline. Watson cleared his throat. "My colleague."

"Watson, please stop being difficult—"

"I'm being difficult?"

"This is not easy for me."

"You've found something that is not easy for you?" Watson spat with mock surprise. He didn't know what Holmes was getting at, but he was starting to feel uneasy.

"Watson, you know that I have trouble displaying emotion."

"You're the more emotional of us two."

"Except for rage. You're very open with your rage."

"Holmes—"

"Besides, it was _you_ who began to weep at my death," Holmes noted. "Ah, my _first_ death," he added as an afterthought.

"Trust me; I would not have done so for anyone else." Watson brought his book back up to his face. "What I meant to say was, I don't know what you're talking about."

"Watson, please talk to me."

Watson slammed his book closed one final time. I put it on the table in between them and glared at Holmes. "You are so enraging you make me want to throw myself off of a bridge. Holmes. Are you listening to me?"

Sherlock had taken up interest in some distant point in space again. "I went over a bridge for you."

"That wasn't a bridge, per se."

"Regardless, I went over it for you."

"Holmes, you went over the bridge to stop a world war. Don't try to lie to me."

"There were other solutions." The detective turned to the doctor. "I wanted to secure your safety. I closed my eyes before I fell because I wanted _you_ to be the last thing I saw in this life."

Watson's jaw went slack. He was vaguely aware of that, but his mind focused on what Holmes had just said. Minutes passed before Holmes spoke again. "I'm baring my soul to you, Watson. The least you could do is respond."

"Why, exactly, are you baring your soul?"

A flash of disappointment crossed Holmes face. He soon recovered his unreadable expression. "It started off innocent. I was complimenting your fine mustache and rugged wobble."

"I believe the word was stoic," Watson said. There was a hint of bragging in his voice. "I am quite stoic, am I not? And rugged." Watson entered a world of his own.

"Watson! What has gotten into you? You say I'm not myself this evening. My gosh."

Watson regained his composure. "I'm not entirely sure what's happening between us."

"Nor am I. But… do you feel that you may have… similar… _emotions_?" There was a long silence. "Watson, please. Give me something."

"Holmes, stop being sensitive. It's off putting and uncharacteristic."

"Alright then."

Watson hadn't even found his page in his book when Holmes spoke again. "The weather's a bit bleak, no?"

"Holmes. I love you. Stop trying, okay?"

A cocky smile spread across Holmes face. "I knew you'd warm up to me."

**This is pretty much word for word from an awkward RP between my best friend and I. Not entirely sure why it started… it just did. I am Sherlock; she, Watson. Not sure if it'll happen again, but there may be more of these. This is border line "joke story" and border line "sort of serious. It was better before I had to add narrative behind it.**

**Um… I cut out the end because we rambled a bit and then I tried to make a movie date but that was awkward for obvious reasons (we did end up going to the movies, but it was in no way, shape, or form a date. Ew)**

**There were parenthetical commentaries of our own as this was going on and the best, I feel, was: "There is nothing like 1890's gay flirting between the two most stubborn people on the planet".**


End file.
